Evening Truths
by adele4
Summary: Arthur doesn't react well to finding out about Merlin's magic, so it's probably a good thing Gwen is around. Spoilers for season 1 and 2.


_Spoilers for both seasons. Hints at Gwen/Arthur, Gwen/Arthur/Merlin if you squint._

_Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin, I make no money with this._

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**Evening Truths**

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The creature hits the ground with a loud thud. He lets his hand sink. The sparks that have been flying from his fingers die down, and Arthur and Gwen's faces are blurred in the feeble evening light; but all he wishes for is more darkness, enough to swallow him whole and spare him what is to follow. Part of him is tempted to try a spell he's only read about, and which would make him invisible – and then he could drift away through to woods, never to come back... But he can't do that. He has to try to stay, at least.

"You!" The pain and betrayal Arthur manages to put into that single word are striking. He's still holding his sword, the blade dark with the creature's blood, from when he managed to strike it, the blow not even slowing it down. Merlin had no _choice_. "You are a sorcerer."

It's difficult to bite down the immediate, irrational "no!" that menaces to escape him. Instead he says, his voice as steady as he can manage: "I'm not your enemy."

Arthur laughs, bitter and hollow.

"You," he repeats, and maybe it would be funny in any other situation. "You're the one who reminded me that all magic is evil when I was starting to doubt it."

"I never meant to," Merlin cries back. "Your father made enemies of almost all sorcerers, and Morgause is one of them. That doesn't mean that magic itself is evil. I only ever tried to keep you safe."

Arthur's stance, defensive position but ready to strike, doesn't falter; Gwen has moved to stand next to him; her eyes are wide and frightened.

"Stay back," Arthur says to her, holding out an arm protectively; Gwen does step back, from him. "Guinevere..."

"Why?" she asks. "Merlin is my friend. I trust him." Arthur opens his mouth to protest. "And he just saved our lives."

Arthur lowers his sword now, looking lost, and Merlin didn't think it was possible for him to look even more deserted and betrayed.

"Did you know?" is what he asks Gwen.

"Of course I didn't!" Gwen sounds angry now. "Having magic can get you killed, do you think Merlin would have told me? What if I'd let something slip?"

"That's not why –" Merlin begins, but Arthur cuts him off, coldly.

"I owe you my life. So I will not kill you. But I owe you nothing else. Your -" He stumbles over the word. "- _friendship_ was a lie from the start."

It hurts more than it should, when Merlin should have expected something of the sort.

"That's not true! Arthur! –"

"How long have you been praying for my father's death?" Arthur hisses at him, and somehow he's more frightening now that he's lowered his sword; Merlin could defend himself against that, but he's defenceless against the words. "How long have you been bidding your time, waiting for the day you'd have the ear of the new king?"

"I didn't –"

"I'm banishing you. You can leave Camelot." He shelters his sword, and it's an odd proof of trust, in that moment. "I won't tell my father."

Merlin opens his mouth to protest, unsure of how to defend himself against these accusations, and then suddenly Gwen is by his side; he looks at her, confused, and she swallows visibly, then smiles at him bravely.

"Guinevere?" Arthur says, all venom gone from his tone, confused and helpless. "What –"

"If anyone who waits with hope for the day when you will be king must leave, then I shall go with Merlin."

She looks like she means it too, somehow ready for it, in her fighting gear. Arthur just stands there, struck.

"You can't mean –"

"Uther is your father, and I am sure he loves you and you love him. But he is a terrible king, and the only thing helping me to get through is the hope that things will be different one day. When you are king in his stead." She looks down. "But I am not sure anymore. Come Merlin."

"Guinevere," Arthur calls again, helplessly; Gwen starts, but not because of Arthur.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she says, her eyes intent on Merlin. "You're the one who healed my father."

Arthur's hand, which, in his confusion, has gone to his sword, falls again; he too looks away from Gwen, to Merlin.

"Is that true?" he asks.

"Uh, yes?" Merlin tries a weak smile. "I told you, remember?"

Arthur closes his eyes as if in pain.

"You _idiot_," he mutters.

"Thank you," Gwen says quietly, to Merlin, who weakly smiles at her, and chooses not to bring up the fact that he almost got her killed in the process right then.

Nothing more is said on banishments; instead they make camp on a small clearing, quietly; the silence is tense still, and too often does Merlin turn to find Arthur staring at him intently as if he could take him apart with his mind. Yet the situation seems normal enough, again, for Arthur to send him out for more firewood in clipped tones.

When Merlin returns – after gathering the wood by magic, which maybe is foolish, but what does he have to lose? – he can hear Gwen and Arthur arguing from afar.

"– for magic makes him blind!" Gwen is saying, and her tone is pleading when she adds: "You are better than that, I know that."

"It isn't blindness to refuse to trust someone who has been lying to you ever since you met him!" Arthur throws back.

Merlin thinks of Morgana then, ruefully, the way she would argue with Uther, the way she would push Arthur; but where Morgana would have talked on and manipulated, Gwen pauses to give Arthur – Merlin is close enough to see now, in the fire's glow – a disbelieving, exasperated look.

"What?" Arthur snaps defensively.

"He lied to _save his life_. He would have been killed if anyone knew."

"Well, I – Merlin."

It's over, Arthur has seen him; Gwen tries to smile at him, but the annoyance is still clearly written over her face. Merlin walks by them quietly, and holds up his arms, feeling like maybe he needs to justify his presence:

"Wood."

"We can see that," Arthur snaps impatiently, and then starts and casts him an odd look; it takes Merlin a moment to understand what that means.

"I'm not – I wouldn't attack you!"

Arthur crosses his arms and says nothing.

"If I was going to use magic on you for being a prat, I would have done that ages ago!" Merlin adds; maybe it's Gwen influence, but he's beginning to be annoyed too; of course, Arthur has reasons for distrusting magic, but this isn't fair, after everything he puts up with on a daily basis...

Well, okay, there was that one time, when they met, where he _did_ use magic on Arthur for being a prat (and attacking him with a flail!), but better not bring that up now. Anyway, he hasn't done it ever since, and God knows it was tempting at times!

"You can't talk to me like that," Arthur says, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

Merlin sighs.

"Yes, sire."

Gwen, who has been quiet throughout this, now steps forward to take the bundle of wood he's still carrying from his arms. Quietly, she throws a branch into the fire and sits down in front of it, arms drawn around her knees. As Arthur doesn't add anything, doesn't seem in the mood for arguing, Merlin sits down next to her.

"Thank you," he whispers to her; Gwen presses her lips together and shakes her head, her eyes still on Arthur, her expression pained, but then she turns to look at him.

"Are you going to leave?" she asks, her voice lowered but not down to a whisper.

"I –" He looks into the fire, thinks of Freya and their plan, sadly. "I _can't_. Camelot – _he_ gets attacked by magic so often, he needs magic to protect him!" There's a silence; Arthur has found nothing more to do, and has gone to the border of their camp, staring into the distance. "It's not that I didn't trust you," Merlin adds. "It's just – Gaius told me not to tell _anyone_, and I was used to keeping it a secret and –" His shoulders slump. He shouldn't have mentioned Gaius knowing, but – well, he _does_ trust her.

Gwen shakes her head at him, takes his hand.

"You don't have to explain it." She glances up, at Arthur, a blurry silhouette at the edge of the small clearing. "Not to me," she adds, still faintly annoyed, but less so.

Merlin closes his eyes. He dreads this conversation, but there's nothing for it: if he wants to stay by Arthur's side, he'll have to convince him to let him, or playing magical protector is going to be tricky. He's glad now that he didn't let Uther die; how could he ever have looked Arthur in the face after that?

"He'll understand," Gwen adds, but Merlin can tell it's a prayer as much as an attempt at reassurance.

"I know," Merlin says, squeezing her hand, and he doesn't: but he feels he owes Arthur to trust him now.

Not for the first time – and if he can stay this will not be the last – he can feel Morgana's absence, looming above them; they need each other, the three of them, now more then ever. He squeezes Gwen's hand again, and slowly stands up; Arthur, sword drawn, turns when he sees him approach, wary; Merlin holds up his hands defensively, and after a brief moment, Arthur relaxes and shelters his sword.

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_~Fin~_


End file.
